


Warm Welcome

by InvincibleRodent



Series: Raymond Trevelyan [14]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Game(s), Pre-Trespasser, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 19:43:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6767332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InvincibleRodent/pseuds/InvincibleRodent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ficlet prompt #1: Grinding up against the other.</p><p>Between the defeat of Corypheus and the Exalted Council, Dorian periodically leaves for the Imperium for about a month at a time. His welcome back to Skyhold is rather enthusiastic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warm Welcome

All bets are off the very second the door groans at the forceful kick and obediently slams shut, startling the ravens into frazzled flight.

Dorian’s breath is almost knocked out of his lungs at the impact with which his back slams against the cool stone, but it hardly matters- the moan of his name against his lips is all the air he needs, and the bone-mashing, knee-buckling, skull-melting crush of lips and teeth and clever tongue chase a ragged gasp from his lips.

Maker, had he missed this. The way his amatus, his Ray tastes and smells and feels, the way he holds him tight, tight enough to feel his heat thrum high in his ears as Dorian’s leg is insistently wrapped around his waist and his fingers dig, wind, tear into whiskey-colored hair.

“A month–” Ray manages between biting, vicious kisses, and Dorian can only choke out an inarticulate, inelegant noise before his tongue is messily, sloppily claimed between his lover’s lips. “ _Month—_ ,” Ray repeats for emphasis with a gasp, and the heel now firmly planted on the back of his thigh and Dorian’s spine arching off the stone force their hips to grind together.

Maker, those hands are everywhere- carding through Dorian’s hair, plunging into the wide collar of his robes, pushing and tearing the fabric out of the way, away from his body, and he can scarcely think with the heady scent of dragon’s blood and musk and pine in his nose; the taste of dark coffee and sex on his tongue… Those lips kissing him like the damned, devouring him like a man starving.

“A month,” he echoes when they shift to his neck, mouthing messy kisses on the autumn skin there, sliding wet down his throat and savoring the taste of his skin and the road… Dorian only gives an agreeing hum, and with how hard his back is being pressed into the uneven stones of the stairway, he can almost spare a shed of thought to the pattern it’ll draw on his skin. “Missed—”

“You,” Ray finishes, and a deeper grind of his hips drowns Dorian’s words in an almost obscene moan. “Missed you too. Maker, I missed you so damn much.”

“I had—mmh, a hunch.” Dorian’s mind is not yet too far gone for a filthy grin, and he cants his hips into the cradle of fingers venturing kneading down his back, gripping his ass like a vice.

He melts under the fervent touches, limbs loose and pliant in the warrior’s hands, and his legs hook obediently around Ray’s hips, ankles locking and urging, pulling him in until Dorian’s whole weight is suspended between the wall and his lover, and a weedy groan escapes him which his lover immediately swallows as he tears at the buttons locking Ray’s tunic shut across his chest.

Normally he would make a show out of deftly popping each, run his fingers along each inch of pale flesh as he reveals that strong body, as if teasing himself, depriving himself of the sight of his lover’s body as long as possible… Now, like a pair of beasts, they tear into each other, all teeth and nails and bruising strength, and fabric almost torn from broad shoulders–

Ray lets out a low, pleased-pained hiss as dull nails rake down his chest, and bloodshot ribbons bloom in their wake. _“Bed,”_ he grunts out, voice as rough and demanding as his grip, and he lets Dorian’s legs slide back on the floor in favor of clumsily freeing himself from the crumpled fabric with barely a rip of a stitch- immediately his body is back against Dorian’s own, and he moans into the biting kiss as his fever-hot skin presses against the cool metal buckles. With but a shallow duck, he hoists Dorian’s legs back around his waist, and an undignified squak escapes the mage as his back is suddenly hanging in the air, his whole weight suspended only by the hands clamped down on his ass and his own arms locked tight around his lover’s corded neck, a precious charge, as if he weighed less than an armful of feathers.

Affectionate laughter masked by easy kisses chases them all the way as Ray marches the both of them up the last flight of stairs from muscle memory alone, and shoulders the door open with minimal difficulty even despite his obscured view.

It takes about a week until the ravens are no longer being hounded from their favored perch by stupidly noisy sex, and another until Josephine manages to look either of them in the eye, and politely request a different office. Preferably one not directly _underneath_  the Inquisitor’s quarters.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a self-imposed quick writing challenge. :)
> 
> I have a [a tumblr](http://www.weresquirrel.tumblr.com) , in case anyone is interested! :) Prompts and feedback are always welcome! <3


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